


A True Story: In Memoriam

by quercus



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-07-02
Updated: 1999-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-07 15:06:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quercus/pseuds/quercus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief reminiscence. Maybe in the distant future, but not right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A True Story: In Memoriam

This is a true story. It isn't my story, or rather, not all of it is mine. Parts grew into me, or I grew into them; somehow, they all came together. And it's all true, every word.

The story begins and ends with my closest friend, a man I called partner for seven years. What years they were, too -- exciting, terrifying, exhilarating, infuriating. Everything. Those years mean everything to me. I savor them, like fine wine. Wonderful vintages, every one.

My partner and I traveled all over the world, mostly on official business, sometimes unofficial. Big cities, small towns, redwood forests, sunbaked deserts; by plane, train, automobile, and ship; every means of transportation known, and one or two not.

Sweet Mary, what wonderful years.

All that's long over, now; as distant as the northern star, or so it sometimes seems. I remember, though. I remember.

Now I'm old. No, don't deny it -- no false flattery, please. I've never needed it, never desired it. Never really known it; my partner was scaldingly honest. Pig-headed, stubborn, contumacious, reckless, but always always honest. I loved him for it. I was an attractive young woman, I'll have you know. Bright blue eyes, bright red hair. All faded now, as you see. He called me Red, sometimes. Used to piss me off. Excuse me; I see my language shocks you. Well, get used to it.

Where was I? Oh, yes. My story. You wanted to hear my story, and what a story. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. The secrets we uncovered, the lies we brought to light. But it's not my story, young man. No, not mine. Well, now, all these years later, it's hard to say. But mostly his; some of mine; some of our boss's; and some of his former partner's. Yes, his story, too.

Do you believe in guardian angels? I see by your face no. Neither do I, really. But sometimes I think that the ex-partner I mentioned was a guardian angel. A guardian of sorts, certainly. He had his finger in every pie, and more than pie, if you know what I mean.

I used to blush that color. That's faded, too.

Angel or not, he was always around, lurking. Like a heart beat. A steady constant presence in all our lives. He was handsome, if you like that type. Almost pretty. My partner liked that type.

More blushes. How old are you? Have you ever been with a man? No, no; none of my business. You seem quite scandalized. So homophobia still reigns at the federal level, I see.

Well, you might not want to listen to the rest of this story, then, if the thought of two men loving each other disturbs you so much.

No, not him -- that wasn't love. Or not the love I meant. I guess it was a type of love, after all. I just realized that this is a love story I'm telling you. I loved him; he loved him; he loved him, too. Yes, a love story. I bet that isn't what you thought you were getting.

The former partner, though; the guardian angel. That was mostly sex, from what I gathered. And I was trained in surveillance, so I gathered quite a bit. Did you know that heterosexual women are often aroused at the thought of two men having sex?

No, I see you didn't know. Think of that, next time you kiss your mother.

Calm down, calm down. Just a little joke. Really, you are almost irresistible. Once my partner told me that the desire to fuck with others often outweighed the resultant millstone of humiliation. Or words to that effect. After all those years together, I guess it rubbed off on me.

Now I've lost my place again. Where was I? Yes, the story you're after, the one you've been sent for. What *really* happened. As if any of us can know that. Only god, and he never gives feedback, the prick.

In the course of our seven-year partnership, we saw many strange things. Some I could explain, some I could not. I loved the truth as much as my partner loved it; we just used different criteria to gauge it. Mine, I think, were more severe. I found my partner at times credulous; he found me at times rigid. But we worked well together. An excellent solve rate. An excellent team.

Then, of course, we began to uncover the darkest secrets, the dirty hidden truths no one wanted to know. Not I, certainly. I fought harder than anyone; I was the Queen of Denial, and I almost broke my partner's heart.

I cannot forgive myself for that. Hurting him. I loved him. I already said that, didn't I. I get confused. I love him still. If there is a god, if there is an afterlife, then I pray the lord will let us be partners there, too. An eternity of bickering and curiosity and love.

Our boss will be there, too. Jesus. Do I miss his presence in our lives. A solid comfort, a steely love. Yes, love. I told you this was a love story. Don't roll your eyes at me, young man; do you want this story or not? Ah, yes, I see; you do want this story. You want my secrets. Well.

Once the invasion began in earnest, The-Powers-That-Were dissolved our partnership. You know that; it's all in the record. They did it by giving me an enormous promotion. Suddenly, I was our boss's deputy assistant director, with years of paperwork to generate and decades of hostility to overcome from the men over whose backs I'd been catapulted.

My partner left the agency then. Also a matter of record. What you don't know, what no one knows, is that he and his ex-partner joined up again, while my boss and I remained on the inside. Quite a team we made.

No, all four of us. My boss and I -- we never -- he loved -- let me finish the goddam story here.

Yes, I'm sure they were having sex while we were reading budget reports and drafting reorganization proposals. Let me rephrase that: they were fucking like bunnies. I might have been in denial about the alien invasion, but not about my partner's dick.

Nearly broke our boss's heart.

Anyway, they fed us information, we fed them information, while around us the spiral of conspiracies and lies and deceit and obfuscation and meretricious sound bites grew larger and wider and gyred into denial on a scale not seen since the world pretended not to know what Hitler was doing to the Jews.

Yes. That big. Yes. That despicable.

Well, we did think about calling Tom Brokaw -- no, of course not! How old did you say you were? I didn't know federal agents could be so naive.

Oh, dear, now I've hurt your feelings. You don't seem to like my love story. You don't seem to think this is the story you were sent for. And you know what? It isn't. Do you know why I'm fucking with you? Because you're a spy, an ignorant tool, taking your little notes, sent from the agency that collaborated with earth's enemies. Because you'll take these precious truths and twist them into more lies. Because the agency waited fifty years, until everyone was dead, everyone but me, to even pretend to find the truth. It's just like what the Air Force, FBI, and CIA did fifty years after Roswell. Create enough layers of lies and the truth will be drowned, suffocated, raped.

You. You're a rapist, you clean-cut monster. You would rape my memories, my story. My partner was truth, honor, and duty. Yes, he fucked the wrong man, but yes, he loved the right one, finally, after it all ended. As invisibly as it began.

This is a true story, young man. One of passion, betrayal, forgiveness, reconciliation, and especially of love, all the myriad varieties of love. And this story will die with me. Because you don't deserve it. Nor do they.

Nurse! Nurse, this young man is annoying me. I'm tired. I want my pills. I want a nap. I want to sleep now.

I want to dream of them, my three men, all beautiful and passionate and a little crazy. We did our best, our very best, and no one will ever, ever know.


End file.
